


Secrets

by ClutteredHeadspace



Category: Bleach
Genre: Character Study, Headcanon, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 10:13:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11228838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClutteredHeadspace/pseuds/ClutteredHeadspace
Summary: Kenpachi's not the only monster in the eleventh.





	Secrets

There's an abused worn folder secured behind the headboard of Squad Eleven Captain, Kenpachi Zarkai's bed. It's spine is worn with time and use and it's been crumpled and smoothed so many times it's once smooth surface is traced with unpredictable and untraceable patterns of soft scar like lines. It's contents are unassuming, nothing more than a few sheets of fragile aged paper, yellowed and delicate with time. Scrawled across the first of them in a spidery hand is the most basic of information, a name and a ticket number, a date of arrival and subsequent Rugonkai district assignment. Nothing to inspire more than a yawn in even the most attentive reader.  
  
The next few pages are less delicate, less yellowed, containing grades and instructor comments, the individual displayed impressive abilities in Zanjutsu, competence in Hakuda and Hoho. There is a note from a disappointed Kido instructor who felt the student had an impressive talent for the subject and a voracious appetite for the theory but refused to preform more than average in the practical lessons. The most recent addition to the file is also the most abused piece of paper. It is crumpled and torn, its contents only the name and description of a zanpakuto followed by a few sentences regarding its power.  
  
On the rare nights that Kenpachi Zaraki, the most ruthless and bloodthirsty warrior in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, finds himself pacing uneasily in his quarters his dark eyed gaze will glance to his bed for reassurance. Kenpachi is a man of few concerns, only one subject can keep him awake at night, and more often than not he can find it curled up under his Haiori trying to wait up for him. Her pink hair in sleepy disarray and one tiny fist curled into the tattered material while the other is pressed to her mouth even though she hasn't sucked her thumb in years. Souls do not age in the afterlife as they would have in the world of the living and though he has been raising her for more than a century physically and emotionally she isn't much more developed then a seven year old.  
  
She is powerful for her age, deadly with the sword she trundles along behind her on little wooden wheels. However he know as a father that those things alone won't always keep her safe. The fortified city of the Seretei is filled with as many if not more dangers than the lawless slums of Rugonkai they had once inhabited. Here the old dangers wear different faces and slink through the streets more subtly then he was accustomed to watching for.  
  
As a man he is aware that the greatest threats to her are among the men under his very command. The ruthless and bloodthirsty are drawn to his division and he is intimately familiar to the darkness that slumbers in those souls drawn to the mayhem and rush of murder and bloodshed. Most of his men are too scared of him to even consider such an action but Kenpachi can't police their desires. He can't be everywhere with her, a child needed room to grow, but it was that very room that was the most dangerous.  
  
So his uncovered eye would drift back to the headboard of the bed seeking it's silent reassurance. There were few people he trusted, growing up in the murderous hell of the Zaraki district had ingrained that within him too deeply for any other outcome. With the safety of his daughter in the mix that short list shrunk to two.  
  
His third seat, Ikkaku Madarame, was one. Within the division he was second in skill only to Kenpachi and he had achieved and mastered his Bankai well over a decade ago. He could have been a Captain in any other division, however the man remained unshakably content with his position as third. If Kenpachi's lieutenant had been anyone but his own daughter he suspected that Madarame would have replaced them decades ago. The other name on the unspoken list had been added under a bloody moonlit night.  
_  
The evening wind blew cold, rustling the bells that carefully adorned the tips of Kenpachi's hair. The Captain's long strides carried him easily down the pathway to the most isolated of the eleventh divisions training grounds. It's rutted surface was unquestioning familiar under his feet after having walked it nearly every night for the last few months. The slowly stretching shadows of the trees watched his progress, his unruly reiatsu flaring around him in an unconscious mirror to his thoughts causing the leaves to rattle and whisper as he passed by. Through the heavy bucking pressure of his own power he could sense that the one he was going to meet was already at the field. His eyes narrowed, the power sealing eyepatch over his right eye digging into his eyebrow unnoticed through his irritation.  
  
Over the last few months the raw knife edge of betrayal and the sharp anger that had come with it in the wake of his discovery of the mans duplicity had dulled. Yet the reviled report still laid in a crumpled heap at the back of his desk drawer and burned accusingly through the thin wood whenever Kenpachi was in the room. He hadn't been able to believe the contents, however the second divisions reports were never wrong. For months he had been pushing the deceptively delicate man ruthlessly, driving him into a corner personally and with his influence over the other squad members trying to determine if the report was true. The flamboyant man endured through it all, never saying a word of complaint about the heavy toxic environment he encountered at every turn. In frustration Kenpachi had decided on another tactic and so their nightly sparing sessions had begun.  
  
The warrior never stood a chance against him, the difference in their power was too great and while he was a highly skilled combatant Kenpachi expertise with a sword was beyond his challenge. Yet the outcast preservered, he took everything the barbaric Captain had thrown at him and remained unbroken. He'd never uttered the words written on the damning paper, his four bladed falx had countered and parried with nothing more than steel and skill. It wasn't in Kenpachi's nature to toy with an opponent, it was the thrill of the fight that drove the large man, the rush of challenge and danger. Yet night after night he ordered the other man out to the training grounds. This had become a fight far different from any other Kenpachi had entered, one of mental endurance and will-power. Neither man backing down from their unspoken positions.  
  
It baffled him.  
  
Twilight cast the training quad in darkening shades of violet however the night had never kept Kenpachi from a fight. A slight shift of his gaze as he stepped into the open area revealed the lean shadow lounging back against one of the trees waiting for him. Aware of his superiors arrival the smaller man levered himself to stand with a graceful roll of his shoulders. The man's motions were effortless as he stepped forward from the shadows, the bruises that still covered his hands and areas of his face suggested to Zaraki's trained eye that anyone else would still be hobbling around recovering. Reluctantly Kenpachi felt his lips quirk wryly as he finally acknowledged a grudging respect for the other man.  
  
Violet eyes, so similar to the shadows around him, watched his Captain warily. Cool calm wrapped around his delicate form, leaner then it had been before this all began. Zarkai acknowledged the new calm as his only victory in this siege, in the privacy of these fights at least, the man had traded his flamboyant slight of hand behavior for this fluid resolve. Zarkai had wondered if the change had meant the other man was ready to break, however he'd since discarded that idea. This cloak of calm resolve fit the smaller mans calculating eyes too well. This wasn't a broken man before him, instead he felt like he'd finally roused the predator enough for it to shed the sheeps disguise.  
  
As Kenpachi advanced into the clearing so did the other man, without a whisper of discussion they stopped ten feet apart, each calmly accessing the other. The other man's head was canted slightly, the faint moonlight gleaming like cold steel off his eyes. His stance was relaxed and calm, one foot shifted back in a wary brace as his Zanpaktou hung loose at his side. Zaraki studied him, tasting the crackle of reiatsu in the air with a grin.  
  
The others control was very good, however his reiatsu gave him away, there was blood lust and frustration in it, he didn't understand why after nearly a century of service his Captain had begun to target him. Zarkai wasn't sure he could explain his actions himself, the betrayal and anger had cooled. His pride itched that a man with such an obvious physical weakness had risen so high in a squad that valued strength above all else. The sense of distrust that had bloomed upon learning his subordinate had kept such a secret from him couldn't be ignored. He had trusted this man to watch his back and more importantly, he had trusted him unconditionally to keep his daughter safe.  
  
As the wind blew coolly around them Kenpachi watched the ridiculous long narrow feathers the other man adorned his right eye with flutter softly. There was something different tonight and edge to the air like he was on the cusp of understanding something. Kenpachi was a warrior, a man of action, the best way he knew to measure a man was to cross blades with him. After weeks of constant sparing he was slowly learning what made the one before him tick. His vexing opponent was more than clever, the facade he had crafted was a flawless mask that seemed to exist only to distract from the parts of his nature he couldn't hide. During their first fight, when Kenpachi's reiatsu had burned away the decorations from the smaller mans face he'd discovered the feathers were a distraction. Designed to draw your gaze, shifting your focus away from the cool chill that would flicker through his eyes promising your calculated murder at his hands.  
  
In the second week of sparing, Kenpachi pushed his exhausted subordinate to the limit of the smaller mans strength and he'd finally lost the breath for his sharp barbed comments. Only then had Kenpachi suddenly noticed the sleek danger in the mans fighting style. It had a fluid grace that once observed was hard to comprehend how you had overlooked it before. The blend of technique and movement forced an opponent onto the defensive with the effortless subtlety of a dancer leading his partner. During that fight Kenpachi had realised how much control the other man could actually steal from his opponents. Kenpachi had even taken a few hits himself though the other was unable to cut through his superior reiatsu.  
  
Tapping his sheathed sword against his shoulder absently the squad eleven captain considered his opponent. With each clash of their blades Kenpachi learned, though the puzzle pieces didn't make sense to him yet. The man was smart, he was dangerous, he was a killer, he was ruthlessly skilled; and yet he pranced around the division sparkling and talking about beauty. Kenpachi couldn't put it togeather, as the silence between them hung heavily in the air the other man's alertness didn't waver.  
  
"Are we going to stand out here all night bushi-sama?" The man's expressive tone was the low timber he had fallen back on when he let go of the flamboyant facade but the accent of the title jarred the scared Captain's memory. He hadn't heard that title in a long time, back than it had fallen from the lips of another man, bitter and stiff with battle scars. In the Zaraki district it was a common phrase, when strength was power everyone learned to humour that power. With a slow smile of murderous understanding Kenpachi Zaraki unsheathed his sword.  
  
"Nah. Was just wool gathering I guess." he responded enjoying the way the smaller man's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he drew his own weapon. Watching the other man's movements he wondered how he'd never noticed it before, how he had dismissed it as an error when he'd opened that damned file.  
  
Without warning he lunged into a headlong charge, as fast as the Hoho move that the other dived into to avoid what would have been a fatal strike. He barked a laugh as he blocked the smaller mans swift counter as he took advantage of his captains defenseless back. With an almost casual backhanded swing he forced the other to duck and dodge back as he spun to face him. He felt the trembling edge of understanding draw nearer, almost under his feet now. With a victorious cackle he lunged in again, bringing his reiatsu up to a glow around him. As he'd expected the other skipped back to avoid it with that eeire fluid grace.  
  
Dressed in his black shinigami uniform with only his white belt and bright orange accessories he was like a living shadow, his sleek black hair moving around his face only enhancing that illusion. The Captain kept pushing him back, ruthlessly using his spiritual pressure to herd the other man toying with him in a style that wasn't his preference but he was as intimately familiar with as he was with the ghostly scent of ash that once coated every breath he took.   
  
The 80th districts of Rugonkai were a unique forge for the souls plunged into that murderous hell. Rape, murder, mayhem, all light and innocence was swiftly burned away within it's colourless borders leaving only ash and broken souls behind. The life expectancy within Zaraki wasn't great, for those with spiritual abilities it was a constant battle against starvation to try and get a part of the meager resources that those with power viciously guarded. For those without spiritual abilities life was one of desperation, slavery, or death. Few individuals were ever able to claw their way free of the constant downward cycle. Kenpachi had done it with power, the constant bloody search to feel alive for those few moments as steel kissed steel, cutting a swath of destruction through the already decimated district. During those years he'd heard a rumour. Of a faceless man that carried grinning death on his shoulder, who would fall beneath no blade, and left only ash and slaughter behind him.  
  
With a skull like grin Kenpachi snapped his reatsu, forcing the smaller man to buffer the blow with power of his own to avoid being crushed by his captains monstrous strength. Sensing the opening the larger man swung his worn chipped blade, almost able to taste the death blood of the other on his tongue. The smaller man blocked with the flat of his sword, bracing it against the outside of his knee as he crouched. The unanticipated jar went up Kenpachi's sword arm to his shoulder joint and his grin widened as he focused on the man kneeling before him.  
  
Steely violet glinted up at him from beneath sleek black brows. His teeth were gritted against the force of holding back the blow Kenpachi was still trying to force, the notched edge of the gleaming nodachi scant inches from his neck held back only by the sealed katana form of his own zanpaktou. Kenpachi's uncovered eye gleamed gold as he began to put some spiritual pressure behind his brute strength. Gazes locked in a battle of wills the smaller man braced his own spiritual pressure, the rich emerald glowing as it twined around the slender katana that held back a brutal beheading.  
  
Kenpachi licked his top lip, tasting the meld of power in the air searching for the missing piece of the puzzle. Blood, ashes, almonds... and vanilla. Grinning Kenpachi sent an unexpected blast of reiatsu at his crouching opponent hitting him head on and blowing him tumbling backwards. The smaller man recovered quickly pushing himself back to his feet and held his katana before him shaking his head once to clear it and dislodge the sweat from his brow. Kenpachi rested the tip of his sword in the grass and studied his subordinate that unique flavour of power tickling at his memory.  
  
"I hunted a man once. He was a legend in the 80th districts, a man that couldn't be killed, couldn't be captured. No one knew his face, and only the faintest traces of power were left behind to prove he was more then a myth." As he spoke the smaller man shifted his foot back uneasily. The faint unease in his posture spoke volumes. "I hunted him for decades, came close a few times but as soon as I closed in on him he would disappear. I figured that made him a coward and eventually I lost interest." The captain smirked and brought his sword up, holding the point unwaveringly at his subordinates heart. "What do you think it meant that he ran from me?" The slender man shifted his weight, lavender gaze on his Captain's mad eyes but awareness on the sword pointed at him.  
  
"I wouldn't know Captain. Perhaps he was hunting something himself." the mans voice was smooth and unruffled betraying nothing. Kenpachi's lips quirked and he flicked the tip of his sword against the dew as he circled his opponent.  
  
"The man was like a wraith, slipping into villages without warning and leaving nothing but empty blood splattered houses behind him in the morning. That doesn't seem like a hunt." The slender man tilted his head to keep the blood thirsty captain in his field of view. However he didn't seem inclined to speak as he watched him prowl.  
  
"Nothing to say? That's a first." he snapped his reiatsu again and watched the other man flick a hand out to bat it away with an air of irritation. It was an admirable bluff of power his subordinate didn't posses. "Then I'll ask you a different question," he bared his teeth is a wild toothy grin. "What does it take for a soul to become old in the 80th?" The lean man's eyes narrowed, gleaming in the moonlight.  
  
In the silence before he spoke Kenpachi finally saw it. The predator that lurked below the masks and the darkness in his own heart purred in satisfied recognition. It was the absolute lack of fear in eyes that spoke of centuries far beyond what showed on his features. The faint gleam of restless madness, the shiver of reiatsu that hungered for blood and death, these things Kenpachi himself knew intimately. Yet despite the familiarity the man before him was far removed from his own predator. A sword perhaps forged in the same fire but tempered into something quite different. He held himself to absolute stillness, a being not of passions but of meticulously fluid self control. A predator whose nature encouraged him to linger in the shadows and observe. Staying hidden had kept him alive, being underestimated kept him safe. Age had graced him with a cool calculating wisdom that Kenpachi remembered once seeing in the eyes of a woman with long tumbling black hair that had taught him the thrill of a fight.  
  
"Souls don't grow old in the 80th, Captain." He finally spoke, his words were guarded and considered as his lips twitched in bitter amusement. Kenpachi studied him, the silence stretching between them as he considered the other man than abruptly sheathed his sword.  
  
"We're done here." he said brusquely, pleased at the smaller mans twitch of surprise and the wary distrust that lingered in his body language.  
  
"Captain?" he asked in unease and Kenpachi smirked.  
  
"I figured out what I needed to know Awseagwa." He arched a brow expectantly and with reluctance the other man sheathed his blade. "Starting tomorrow I'm assigning you a new position." Violet eyes narrowed dangerously, outrage simmering below the surface and a muscle in his cheek twitched as he clenched his teeth. "Your secrets are your own." Kenpachi continued and the other mans eyes widened at that. "But from now on your duty as fifth seat is to pass onto Yachiru every skill you posses. Whenever I cannot be there it is your responsibility to make sure she comes back home." He smirked as the smaller man seemed to deflate and quickly settled back under the familiar safety of his mask the predator slumbering again except for the wary understanding in the glimmer of his gaze. With a chuff Kenpachi turned and headed back towards the barracks pausing as he reached the edge of the trees to glance back at his subordinate.  
  
"Us monsters from Zaraki should stick together. But when I give the order Awseagwa, you and that shikai of yours had better hold nothing back, or I'll kill you myself." He turned away to hide the smug grin at the other mans bafflement though is reiatsu would likely give it away regardless.   
_  
Since that night Yumichika Awsegwa had given Kenpachi no reason to regret his decision. Though he had experienced some paternal misgivings when he first observed the other the other man begin his subtle teachings the results were exactly what he had hoped for. Yachiru's quick and clever nature gave her an advantage that Kenpachi had never had. He had the size and brute strength to intimidate those around him just by breathing but the small girl with her innocent pink hair lacked that advantage. She would grow up to be quick and agile, delicate and deceptively strong and to those who didn't know the power she possessed she would be forever underestimated. It was an advantage that he wanted her to be able to exploit if she needed to and it was a talent that the 80th districts had carved deeply into Awesagawa. Under his subtle tutelage the girl was already beginning to blossom.  
  
The flamboyant man encouraged her to take what she already knew and blend it with his lessons and the results were uniquely her own. Her reiatsu control was refining, she could now appear to vanish under nearly anyone's senses or bring them to their knees in a display worthy of a captain class shinigami. While Kenpachi had no use for Hoho she was becoming an adapt, keeping up with grown men with more then twice her experience.  
  
She was beginning to develop a patience and ability to observe and analyze that was going to serve her well in the world of complicated politics that made up the Seretei. Given her small size and stealth she was quietly becoming squad eleven's personal informant, there was little going on within the Gotei 13 that her keen ears and curiosity couldn't find out. Kenpachi had simply laughed the day he discovered her and Awesagawa kneeling on the floor of his office with a box of old locks and various improvised lock-picking tools.  
  
However it wasn't these thoughts that soothed the Captain's worries when his gaze drifted to the hidden folder. It was the smaller moments when Awesagawa would quietly catch his eye and tilt his head toward a new arrival who was watching the young girl a bit too closely than lift a shoulder to ask if the Captain wanted this one or should he handle it. Other times Kenpachi would step into his office and find neatly made up transfer forms sitting on the desk awaiting his signature with the simple explanation that the individual was found to be a poor fit for the squad. His favorites were when the dark haired man would knock quietly on his door, typically late at night, and report that there had been an unfortunate training accident or that a bar brawl gone bad. On those nights he would catch a cold gleam in the other man's gaze the only hint of a dark satisfaction and Kenpachi never asked what had really happened, simply signing whatever forms were needed.  
  
Perhaps most men would have felt unease in entrusting the safety of a child to someone with Awesagawa's tendency for secrets. Kenpachi however simply felt a sense of satisfaction that there was someone else keeping an eye out for her that could do what he could not. Yachiru didn't seem to realize that she had picked up a new caretaker, and Kenpachi was certain that she hadn't noticed that when she was off terrorizing the other squads that more often than not there was vibrant man watching over her contentedly unnoticed in the shadows. Between Awesagawa, Madarame and himself Yachiru was able to have the space that a child needed to grow and still never stray to far from at least one deterring presence.  
  
Feeling his mind settle he stopped his pacing rolled out his shoulders before picked up the small girl dozing on the foot of his bed. She rubbed her cheek against his chest as he carried her to her private room within his quarters and tucked her under her brightly coloured covers. She shifted and blinked her eyes open to study him sleepily before turning to nuzzle her cheek into the cool pillow. She slid a small hand under the pillow and Kenpachi watched the flex of delicate muscles in her forearm as she curled her fist. There was a faint, muffled draw of steel and Kenpachi smirked and pressed a kiss to her brow. Awesagawa had obviously convinced her to keep a Tanto or Kaiken secreted away with her at all times. Pleased he tucked her hair behind her ear then un-clipped the skull and cross bone barette holding it back.  
  
"Sleep well Yachiru." He murmured to her and her lips quirked as she murmured something sleepily in response. Satisfied Kenpachi turned and half closed the door between her room and his as he usually did. Blowing out the lantern beside his bed he stripped and crawled under the covers. He settled down then glanced at the headboard one last time before chuckling to himself as he cracked his neck and drifted off to sleep. Yachiru might grow up in the relative comfort and ease of the Seretei but between Awesagawa and him they'd forge her into a survivor worthy of the 80th. After all," _Only monsters grow old in the 80th_ ," was what Awesagawa had left unsaid that night and who better to teach her than the only two monsters to crawl their way into the bright, vicious world of the seretei.


End file.
